What do we fight for
by EsmereldaGaladriel
Summary: The journey from the ruin of Erebor to the battle at Azanulbizar, following a group of dwarves on the journey. A series of small scenes, each connecting somewhat. Takes place in the timeframe of the appendices, which is why it is not in the Hobbit section. K for death. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

AU obviously, but I am trying to make this end up fitting (ish) with canon. As I am neither a zombie nor a Kiwi genius, I (regrettably) own nothing but the storyline and OC's. Please R & R. Sorry if it's a bit slow to start.

Lis had a passion for mechanics, though being a healer and not having any natural talent for it. She had learned enough to build some machines, and had decided to practice by building a catapult. Somewhat typical, as all young dwarves were encouraged to learn skills for battle. She was almost ready for testing, in the woods surrounding Erebor. She had found a good pile of rubble, and had positioned it. As she wound back the lever arm, a shadow passed overhead. She looked up. A dragon, one of the flying fire-worms of the north, that had driven her people from the Grey Mountains. It was bound for the Mountain. She dropped the rope, and ran.

She arrived at the mountain as the first fire was coming. Dwarves were furiously shooting arrows at the shape in the sky. She unslung the bow she carried and grabbed and arrow out of the quiver of the dwarf next to her.

"Oi!" she turned and saw one of her fairweather-friends coming towards her, "That's my bow that went missing."

"All right, all right," she said while cursing under her breath, "But I was going to return—"

She cut short as they scurried behind stone pillars to avoid a jet of flame. She'd hoped that the bow would go unnoticed. It certainly had, until now. Why was she dwelling on this now? She didn't know. She winced, someone was not fast enough. The fire passed over them, leaving molten armour cooling on the cobbles. She gasped. No one deserved that. The defense was rapidly weakening, and the people were fleeing. Smaug had taken the mountain. She took the escape route that went past her catapult, as she knew those woods best.

Thorin ran, hard and fast. Smaug had taken the mountain. He had run back towards it, hoping to save some, but it was too late. He had seen people turned to charred corpses in the blink of an eye. Never before had there been a horror as awful as that. Now he ran for his life. The trees were blazing merrily, cutting off any chance of escape. Every corner he turned, there was a fallen pine blocking the path. Time was running out. For a moment he thought he saw a face reflected in the weapon he kept ever at his side, but it was probably a trick of the firelight. As he rounded another bend, he heard a voice cry out.

"Get down!"

As he ducked, he heard a whooshing noise above his head. A load of rubble had been hurled across the clearing.

"Fly!" said the voice, "What in Arda are you doing, just standing there? Run!"

After a moment of shock, he ran. The rubble had cleared a path ahead of him to the edge of the forest. He turned to have a look around, for the voice. A dwarf girl was standing behind him, looking at him strangely.

"Who are you?" he asked, mystified, "Why are you here?"

"I lived in Erebor, why else should I be here? My name is Lis. I know who you are. It would probably be best if we kept running away now. Go on."

Lis was quite used to not being recognized. She had been blessed with one of the most completely forgettable faces. That, and she tried to stick to the shadows. Little objects tended to disappear when she was around, so that way, if anyone was blamed for anything, it would not be Lis. Being invisible certainly had its benefits, but sometimes was just a bit of a buggerance. Take this young prince for example. Full of adrenaline and fear, unable to properly function until he knew everything. But you do the job that's in front of you, or people die.

"There's not much time to explain; we must get away from the mountain. Run."

With that, she took off, much faster that normal. When you are afraid, you can do things you've never dreamed of: run faster, jump higher, become stronger. They leapt over logs and bounded between crackling trunks. When they made it to safety, both were exhausted. They still kept running, though, to catch up so with the rest of the fleeing dwarves. When they finally caught up, Lis spoke.

"You seem to want to know who I am, so I shall tell you. Lis, daughter of Mari, apprentice healer. I know these woods, and luck was on my side today. That should be all the explanation you need. Lovely day, is it not?"

With a smile that looked more like a sideways grimace, she strode away.

That was odd, thought Thorin, he probably should feel grateful, but she was too disconcerting for that.

"Thorin!" Balin's voice cut through his thoughts, the older dwarf seemed worried, "Why did you go back? You could have been killed!"

"I'm safe now."

Safe Thorin was, but afterwards he would never be the same.

Lis waltzed off to find her family. You'd never know what she was thinking from the look of her. Never let the damage through, never let the damage through, never let the damage through…she mentally repeated those lines over and over and over again. She had seen them die. Not friends, as she had few of those, but people. Ones that had grown, lived, loved, dreamed. Some were not good, but nonetheless were people. She and the boy would have died, as well, if not for tremendous luck. She did not think that she had been more afraid in her life than she had just been, running through a flaming forest. And, from the look of him, Thorin had been just as frightened as she was. Mahal send that they would be as fortunate next time; having just lost their home, the dwarves of Erebor would have a long, hard journey in front of them. A healer would be as vital as a warrior if they were to survive.


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin sat down at the lake, the first of many they will rest by on their long journey. He had gone down to refill the water-skins. When he had finished, a reflection in the water caught his eye. He bent down to have a look. His mistake.

"Aha!" cried Lis, as Thorin recoiled from the water that had turned on him, "You have dropped your guard somewhat."

He drew himself up, or at least tried to.

"What was that for? What did I do to you?"

"You should know exactly what it was for. Anyway, you need someone to keep you sane, even if that just means splashing you from time to time."

"How should I know what it was for?" Thorin's expression turned from indignant to puzzled as he thought. A look of understanding dawned, "Ah. I was that arrogant?"

"Yes, I'm afraid. At least you realize it, unlike most of the others. You seem to think more than them," Lis was empathetic, she had been like that before she had checked herself. This one was different. He thought first, acted later.

"Sorry," Thorin's voice broke through her thoughts, "But I imagine you know exactly why."

Thorin told the truth. They had been under an awful burden, he had seen people die before his eyes, when he could do nothing about it. He knew, he had been told over and over again, that these were his people, and he was to protect them. And yet he could not. No person should go through that, but far too many do. It burns right through you and leaves you hollow. Nearly all in the camp of survivors had experienced that; nearly all had scars, visible or invisible, that they would forever bear.

Lis looked him in the eye.

"I understand," she said, in voice that was not loud but had the pitch and spin that would make it audible in a hurricane, "but you can't let it take you away, else there will be nothing left of you. You have to keep that in. Time will make it better. But don't let it get to you."

"I understand," Thorin did his best to look unshakably calm, and failed.

"Goodbye, then," said Lis, as she started walking back to camp.

A most curious person she was. Maybe you have to be mad, if you're to know as well as that. She was proud, but that pride had been earned. Or, at least, so it seemed to Thorin. He had been in a heavy melancholy, along with many others. A bit of madness was needed to reawaken him. He gathered his containers and headed back to camp, ever thoughtful.

He wasn't bad. Quite the opposite, indeed. He could learn the art of building walls, which was the only thing that had kept her sane after the ambush. They had seen much of each other lately, he was on the outside because of his station, she was outside because of her irregularity. Building walls was just a part of her life, and she could teach him. Just keep that part of you locked away, where it can never hurt you. Don't drive it out, but trap it in. All the pain, the grief, the regret. Accept it, embrace it, and it is conquered. It does not diminish, but it can be channeled.


	3. Chapter 3

The rain-soaked mountain side reflected a curious scene.

"Take all of it, and try and force it into one place. One small ball of fire. Then block it, keep it, take it into your very heart. Let it burn, but keep it from burning you."

Lis was teaching her first student. It was harder than it seemed, no one was ever entirely the same. Thorin tried hard, though, and seemed to be succeeding.

"I'm surprised that you thought of this. It works!" There was a look of amazement on Thorin's face.

"Survival. I cannot let any of my emotions come through, and so I had to find a way to keep them in," Lis's face was serious this time, she had even let the slight slip through, "I may be a healer, but someday I will have to fight for my life. Then I will let it go. You can keep it in, and then let it go when you need to fight. It is a powerful force, and can be used. Now try again. Concentrate, and you'll reach a balance, like walking on a wire, it's easy is you don't think too hard."

Thorin gritted his teeth, and tried again. It seemed too much to contain, but he could do it. If Lis, why not him? Someday he may need it. You never know.


End file.
